that's what you get for falling again
by shineyma
Summary: Jemma wakes to learn that she's lost nearly eight months' worth of memories. One would expect it to be the worst news she gets that night. Unfortunately for Jemma, one would be wrong.
1. pretty girl is suffering (jemma)

A/N: First, before I forget, title comes from "Pretty Girl" by Sugarcult. And credit to sapphireglyphs for connecting the song with this story, because it really is perfect. All chapter titles will come from the song, as well.

Second, this _will _be multiple chapters. How many, I haven't decided yet. I guess we'll see. Chapter one is a drabble I posted on tumblr a while ago, with some minor edits. All subsequent chapters will be new.

Third, I'm trying something a little different with this one. Namely, alternating POVs. This chapter is from Jemma's POV, the next will be from Grant's, and the one after...we'll see. Each chapter's POV will be clearly marked in the chapter title, and hopefully the text will make it obvious as well.

I think that's it! Except to mention that this story was spawned by a prompt from anonymous, who requested "angsty biospecialist amnesia au"-so take that as you will. Oh, and this story _will _contain **spoilers** for recent episodes.

Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review.

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><p>Jemma's head is pounding when she wakes.<p>

That's the first thing she's aware of: the pure agony in her skull. The second thing she's aware of is the steady beeping coming from somewhere nearby, which does absolutely nothing to lessen the pain. The third thing she's aware of is Skye.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

"Skye?" Jemma croaks. She cracks one eye open and instantly regrets it, as the bright light shining in her face causes a spike of pain. She squeezes her eye shut again with a moan.

"Sorry, sorry," Skye says hastily. There's a click, and the light seeping through her eyelids dims. "I meant to turn that off."

"What happened?" she asks, and risks opening her eye again. This time, the room is dark, and she opens her other eye.

She's clearly in a hospital room of some kind, although it's not one she's ever seen before. Actually, it strikes her as being rather makeshift. Skye is sitting next to her bed, looking pale and exhausted. There's no sign of Grant or Fitz. All of these things are worrying, to say the least.

"How's your head?" Skye asks.

She's about to answer when she processes exactly what she's seeing, and she frowns. "Skye…what have you done with your hair?"

"What?" Skye asks. Her eyes go wide, and she leans forward slightly. "Simmons. What's the last thing you remember?"

Jemma tries to think past the pain in her head, which isn't easy. She does wonder what happened, but she has the feeling that she won't be getting any answers until she answers Skye's question, so she does her best to focus.

"Canada," she says finally. "We were…in the woods. Following coordinates from Coulson's badge."

Skye's eyes go even wider, and she springs to her feet.

"Okay," she says, in a tone which falls rather short of comforting. "Okay, that's…okay. You should, um. You should rest, and I'm gonna go get Coulson."

"Coulson?" Jemma asks. "Why…?"

She trails off as Skye hurries out of the room. She frowns after her. Why Coulson? It seems an odd response. If Jemma has lost part of her memory—which is what she presumes has happened, based on Skye's reaction—wouldn't a doctor be more appropriate?

She knows that Skye erased all of their identities earlier today—or, not today, apparently, but at _some_ point in the past—which might make visiting a hospital problematic for one of the others, but it shouldn't affect Jemma. After all, she knows for a fact that Grant has created several false identities for her to accompany his own. He thinks she's not aware of it, the silly man, but she is.

There's no reason Jemma shouldn't be in a hospital, but, looking around the room, she's fairly certain that she isn't. This looks more like a bunker than anything else, and it's slightly concerning. Add that to Grant's continued absence, and it becomes downright worrying.

Not to mention the lack of Fitz—the last time she was hospitalized (after the regrettable Bellhop Incident of 2012), he literally had to be sedated before they could remove him from the room. His absence here is just as surprising and worrying as Grant's, if not more so. After all, the last she knew, Grant was away—accompanying Hand and Garrett to the Fridge—but her last memories involve Fitz standing right next to her.

All of the signs point to something truly terrible happening, and Jemma strains to remember more. And, unfortunately, fails. She's aware of the memories, can feel them just out of reach, but can't connect to them. It's just like when a word is on the tip of her tongue and just as frustrating.

Between the pain and the frustration, she's near tears by the time Skye returns, accompanied by Coulson and May. Neither one of them looks injured—nor, she notes, does Skye—so whatever's happened, it doesn't seem to have involved them.

"Sir," she says as soon as Coulson crosses the threshold. "_What_ is going on?"

"Simmons," Coulson says. "I need you to stay calm."

"That would be easier if I had any _answers_," she informs him, a touch desperately. "Please, what's happened? Where are Grant and Fitz?"

May, who's standing at the side of the bed, makes a motion like she's about to touch Jemma, then stills. Skye looks away. Coulson frowns.

"I'll answer all of your questions," he promises. "But I need you to be calm about it. Are you in pain? We've got the good drugs, if you'd like them."

His levity rings false, and it worries her even more.

"I'm fine," she says. "And I'll stay calm, I promise. Just _please_ tell me what's going on."

"Okay," Coulson says. He sinks into the chair on the other side of the bed. "But if you need me to stop at any point, just tell me."

That…is not encouraging. Jemma is gripped with dread as Coulson takes a deep breath. And her unease only increases when she notices Skye slipping out of the room.

x

Some time later, Jemma's head is reeling with everything she's been told. Grant is a traitor. He tried to kill _everyone_. Including her and Fitz, which is why the latter isn't here—because he received brain damage when Grant tried to kill them, and the team tries to avoid upsetting him. He's not here because he doesn't know she's injured.

She asks more than a dozen times whether they're _really_ sure that Grant is a traitor. She's positive that there's some mistake. It simply isn't possible. She _knows_ Grant. She loves him. He is _not_ HYDRA. He can't be.

Skye returns during Coulson's explanation of exactly how Jemma was injured—_she_ went undercover in HYDRA? Really? Whose idea was _that_? Jemma _can't lie_—and silently hands over a tablet.

"What's this?" Jemma asks, looking down at it. It's displaying a paused video, so she hits play.

And instantly regrets it.

She watches, in horrified silence, the proof of Grant's betrayal. The video is a security feed of some kind—from the Cybertek building, she assumes, remembering Coulson's earlier account—and it shows, in full color and audio, Grant threatening Skye and fighting May.

She's crying by the end of it.

"We'll, uh, give you some time," Coulson says awkwardly. "There's an intercom there. Let us know if you need anything."

He leaves quickly, and Skye follows him out after a sympathetic look. May hesitates, then sits down on the edge of the bed and rests a hand against Jemma's back.

They've never been particularly close—in fact, she's always been somewhat intimidated by May—but Jemma folds into her at once, sobbing into her shoulder. May doesn't offer any words of comfort, for which Jemma is absurdly grateful. There's nothing she could possibly say to make this better.

All May does is hold her and let her cry.

x

After she's done crying—which does take a while—she asks if she's allowed to leave the room.

"Should be okay," May decides. "You want to go to your room?"

"No," she says, swinging her legs to the side and sliding to the edge of the bed. "I want to see him."

"We can't let you see Fitz, yet," May says, in what Jemma suspects is deliberate misunderstanding. "Not until we have time to break the news to him."

"That's fine," Jemma says, although it really isn't. She doesn't appreciate being kept from her best friend. Still, the last thing she wants is to make his condition worse, and she'll have to take Coulson's word for it that she would. She makes a mental note to request access to his medical file—she'd like to know the particulars of his injury. "Because I want to see Gra—Ward. I want to see Ward."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" May asks mildly, moving forward to steady Jemma as she stands.

"No," she admits. "But…it's something I have to do."

May watches her for a long moment, and Jemma does her best to return the steady gaze. Eventually, the older woman nods.

"This way," she says. She pauses to grab a cotton robe off the back of the door and offers it to Jemma. "It's pretty cold in the base."

"Thank you," Jemma says, and slips it on. She's wearing scrubs, not a hospital gown, but they're fairly thin, so she does appreciate the robe, which is nicely warm.

"You want to stop by your room first?" May asks. "Get dressed?"

"No, that's all right," Jemma says. She needs to get this over with, before common sense asserts itself and she changes her mind.

May nods and says nothing. Jemma has the feeling that May knows exactly what she's thinking. Oddly enough, it's not unsettling at all. In fact, it's almost comforting.

The base appears deserted. They walk through countless corridors without encountering a single person. Jemma wonders if it's simply lacking personnel—Coulson mentioned a few unfamiliar names, but not many—or if the corridors have been cleared on someone's order.

"It's pretty late," May says, as though in answer to her thoughts. "Everyone's asleep. He might be, too."

Jemma honestly isn't sure whether that would be preferable or not, so she simply nods. Then she winces, because her head is still throbbing. Perhaps she should have taken up that offer of painkillers after all—but no. She needs to be clear headed for this.

Eventually, they come to a stop outside a door marked Vault D. Jemma is briefly distracted, wondering whether there are Vaults A, B, and C, and, if so, whom they might hold, but pushes those thoughts aside for later.

"You want me to come in with you?" May asks.

"No, thank you," she says, although it's tempting. "I need to do this alone."

May doesn't look surprised. "I'll be right out here, watching." She holds up a tablet. "If things get out of hand, I'll come in."

"Thank you," Jemma says. She takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle.

"There's a tablet outside the cell," May tells her. "It controls the room."

"Good to know," she says. She starts to open the door, then hesitates. "How much does he know? I mean, did he know that I was going undercover?"

"He doesn't know anything," May says. "He never even knew you were gone."

"Good," she says. Then, before she can second guess herself again, she pulls open the door. "This shouldn't take long."

"Take your time," May says kindly.

Jemma nods (carefully, this time) and enters the Vault. It's dark, and she pauses as the lights slowly flicker on, revealing a staircase. She keeps her eyes on the steps, dreading what she might see if she looks around the room.

Coulson mentioned that Grant—that _Ward_ was briefly suicidal, and that the toll it took on Jemma to repeatedly save his life was one of the main factors that led her to request an off-base assignment. She wonders whether it was here that she treated him, or if he was brought up into the main base for it.

She imagines it must have been here, as bringing him upstairs would be quite the security risk. She tries to picture having to rush down these stairs to save the life of a traitor—a traitor she used to love—and shudders.

No wonder she left. At the moment, she's rather regretting that she ever returned—and not just because it resulted in amnesia.

Eventually, she reaches the bottom of the stairs, and she can stall no longer. When she looks up, her eyes are instantly drawn to the cell in the center of the room. Or, more specifically, the man standing in the cell in the center of the room.

There's a yellow line painted on the ground, which Jemma assumes denotes the location of the barrier, and Grant—_Ward_—is standing right at the edge of it. He's staring straight at her, and it takes her a moment to gather the necessary courage to approach the cell.

There's something very off-putting about his gaze. And she doesn't think it's just the new knowledge of his true nature. There's something different about him, now.

He's sporting a beard, and she has the irreverent (and irrelevant) thought that it doesn't suit him at all.

"You're hurt," he says quietly. "What happened?"

Reflexively, she lifts a hand to the bandage on her head. Then she drops it and folds her arms against her stomach. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what there is to say. Honestly, she has no idea what she's doing here.

As far as she remembers, the last time she saw this man, he was kissing her goodbye. She tried to comfort him about Garrett, tried to convince him that it wasn't necessary to go with the security detail to see him locked up, and he…

She swallows, remembering how shattered he looked. He was all but drowning in guilt for not seeing the truth about his mentor.

Or so she thought.

It's hard to accept that it was all a lie. He portrayed the emotion so convincingly—she never once doubted him, even knowing how close he was to Garrett. But then, he made a career out of undercover work.

She supposes this is just what she gets for sleeping with a spy.

The pain in her head, the exhaustion she's been feeling since she woke up, and all of the emotions that seeing him cause in her are overwhelming. She drops into the chair in front of the cell and just looks at him.

"You changed your hair," he says, after several long moments. "It looks nice."

For some reason, that's the final straw. She puts her head in her hands and laughs until she cries.

The man she loves is a traitor. Her best friend has brain damage, which was caused by said traitor, and she has no idea how severe it is. Her _other_ best friend can apparently barely stand to be in the same room as her. Her parents, by all accounts, have every reason to believe she's dead. She has _amnesia_.

And now she's just been informed, by the aforementioned traitor, that at some point in the drama of the past few months, she changed her hair. And he likes it.

"Jemma," he says. "_Jemma_. Calm down. Take a breath."

His voice is steady, comforting, and despite herself, she responds to it. It's the tone he uses—used—with her after nightmares, and at this point it's reflex to obey as he talks her through slowing her breathing. It works just as well as always. And even though she's no longer on the verge of hyperventilating, it somehow makes everything even worse.

As far as she's concerned, she loved this man less than six hours ago. She has no idea how they went from that to _this_—to being separated by a force field for her own safety.

"Feeling better?" he asks quietly.

"Why?" she asks, looking up at him. Before he can answer, she clarifies, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Any of it," she says. Her voice is a little sharp, but she's too exhausted to actually snap at him. "You betrayed us. Why?"

"I was loyal to Garrett first," he replies, voice soft and apologetic. "And it was just supposed to be a fact finding mission. I never meant for any of you to get hurt."

_That_ gives her the energy she needs to snap, "You tried to _kill_ us!"

"No, I didn't," he says urgently. "Jemma, if I had refused to kill you, Garrett would have just had someone else do it."

"And you thought that killing us yourself would be _better_?" she demands.

"No," he says. "I knew that if any of Garrett's men got their hands on you, you were dead. Getting you off the Bus was your only chance. I know Fitz got hurt, but at least you both survived. If I hadn't done what I did, you'd be dead. Or worse."

It's impossible to argue with him. She doesn't know the circumstances well enough to mount a reasonable counter-statement. Coulson's description of that particular event was vague and very, very quick.

"Even _if_ I believe that," she says. "There's still _everything else_ you did. You helped Centipede ruin countless lives, you kidnapped and tried to kill Skye, you_ actually_ killed…"

She falters. She knows that Coulson told her the name of the agent Ward killed at their original base, the one whose corpse _she_ performed a post-mortem on, but she can't quite think of it, at the moment. She's positive that it started with a K or a C, but…

She's silent for too long, and his eyes narrow.

"It's been months," he says slowly. "And you've never come down here to ask for an explanation. Why now? Why tonight?"

Before she can decide what to say, his eyes lock on the bandage at her temple.

"Just how bad is that head injury?" he asks.

"It's nothing," she dismisses. "Just a bump."

But something in her tone must give her away, because he steps even closer—causing the barrier to become visible, a grid of golden light flaring into view. He takes the slightest step back, just enough that the barrier fades again, and pins her with a look that she can't even begin to interpret.

"You don't remember," he says, his tone just as unreadable as his face. "Do you?"

She's a terrible liar. There's no point in trying to deceive him. "No. I don't."

"How much did you forget?"

"All of it," she admits. "The last thing I remember is walking through the woods, trying to find…" She hesitates, unable to recall the name of the first base. This one is the Playground, she's certain, but the other…She sighs and gives up, incapable of thinking past the ever-present pain in her head. "Trying to find the base in Canada."

"So you have no idea what happened," he says. She wonders if she imagines the triumph in his tone.

"Yes, I do," she disagrees. "I may not remember it, but they told me everything."

"And you believed them?" he asks, hurt.

She has to quash her instinctive need to apologize and comfort him. He's a murderer and a traitor, and the hurt he's displaying is only an act—as was everything she ever saw in him. He's simply attempting to play her, to take advantage of the circumstances. She knows that.

Still, it's difficult, and she has to swallow before she can speak again.

"No," she says. "Not at first. I was so sure there had to be some mistake."

"So you—"

"And then," she continues over him. "I saw the video."

He pauses. "Video?"

"Apparently Cybertek had an absurd amount of security cameras," she says. "After everything that happened there, the team kept the feeds. I watched them earlier. It was quite the show."

"Jemma—"

"Jemma's still alive," she quotes. She's surprised by how steady her voice is. "And once I've crossed off you and the rest of the team, I'll have plenty of time to _convince_ her to see things my way."

The words—_his_ words—are burned into her memory (for the second time, she presumes). As is the look that was on Skye's face when he said them. She doesn't know what was on _his_ face at the time, since the camera showed only his back, and she's pathetically grateful for it. The words are bad enough. Knowing his expression as he said them could only make it worse.

He's silent for a long time.

Finally, expression soft, he says, "I wanted you on my side. I wanted you with me. Is that so bad?"

She's wasting her time, here. She doesn't know what she was expecting. An explanation? Even if he offered one, there's really nothing he could say to justify the things he's done. And he _hasn't_ offered an explanation—or an apology. All he's given her are excuses and deflections and more lies.

"I see now why I haven't been down to visit before tonight," she says quietly. She stands. "And it seems I had the right of it."

"Wait," he says, jerking forward. The barrier flares again, and he makes a frustrated noise as he steps back. "Jemma."

"This was a waste of time," she says, mostly to herself. "There's nothing you can say to make things right."

"You love me," he reminds her, tone slightly desperate.

"For the moment," she agrees. "But once my memories return, I'll stop."

"And if they don't?" he asks.

"I got over you once," she says. (She has to believe that she did. She has to believe that it's possible to let go of him. It may take her another six months, but she can move on.) "I can do it again."

"You don't _need_ to," he says. "Jemma, I lied about a lot of things. I admit it. But my feelings for you were real."

"No, they weren't," she snaps. "I was simply a _strategic move_."

He pulls back a little, obviously (or pretending to be) caught off guard. Those aren't his words. They're Garrett's. Jemma didn't see any feeds of Garrett, but Coulson gave her a _lot_ of detail about the confrontation he had with the man before Mike Peterson killed him.

Including the part where he called Ward's relationship with Jemma a_ strategic move that really paid off_.

"I'll admit," he says. "It started that way—as an in with the rest of the team. But it didn't stay that way for long."

She can't listen to this. Her entire world has been shattered tonight. She can't stand here and look at him for a single second more. This man—this man, whom she loves and trusts and has never had any reason to doubt, until tonight—is a traitor and a murderer. Nothing he says has any value at all.

She turns away and heads for the stairs. Her legs are slightly weak, her steps unsteady, and she doesn't know whether she's overdone it—this was rather a lot, so soon after her injury—or if it's simply her emotions overwhelming her again. Perhaps it's both.

Either way, she's going upstairs and straight to bed. In her room, she thinks, wherever that might be. She's sure May will be willing to show her the way. She'll go to her room, and she'll lie down, and she'll pretend that all of this has been nothing but a horrible dream.

In the morning, she'll have to grieve—both what she's lost and what she now knows. But she thinks she can allow herself one night to hide from the truth.

"I fell in love with you, Jemma," he claims. "I loved you then and I love you now."

"You're lying," she says. She continues towards the staircase. Just a few more feet…

"I won't lie to you," he says. "Never again. I'll be completely honest with you for the rest of my life."

_That_ stops her, and she turns to stare at him, incredulous. "You won't _lie_?" She shakes her head sharply, then grimaces as it makes the world spin a bit. "You're a traitor and a murderer and you caused my best friend _permanent brain damage_. Your lies are the _least_ of the problem."

"I understand why you feel that way," he says, holding up his hands. "I've done horrible things, it's true. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making them up to you."

"No," she says. "You're not." She takes a deep breath and turns away, walking the final few steps to the stairs and starting up them. "Because this is the last time you'll ever see me."

"If you say so."

Something about the words, and the placid tone he says them with, makes her shiver. It's only through sheer force of will that she keeps from running up the last few steps, and when she reaches the door, she doesn't hesitate in opening it.

"Goodnight, Jemma," he calls lightly.

She steps through the door and lets it fall closed behind her, then slumps back against it. May is still waiting in the corridor, as promised, and Jemma's eyes are abruptly filled with tears again as everything hits her at once.

"It's really true," she chokes out. "Isn't it?"

"Yes."

Her legs give out from under her, and she slides down the door to sit on the ground. She pulls her knees to her chest, ignoring the accompanying pain in her torso (the wound to her head is the worst of her injuries, but it isn't the only one), and buries her face in them.

He says he still loves her—that his feelings for her weren't a lie. She doesn't believe that at all. How could she, after everything he's done? She doesn't believe him.

But—and this, out of all of the terrible things she's seen and heard and realized tonight, is the absolute worst—she wants to.

So she sits there, slumped against the door, and hides her face in her knees as she sobs. May silently sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, and though Jemma curls into her willingly, it really only makes things worse.

The man she loves is downstairs in a cell from which he, with any luck, will never be released. Her best friend is God knows where, with brain damage so severe that she can't even see him, for fear that her current condition will make him worse.

In the span of just a few hours, her entire world has fallen apart. And the only person offering comfort is a woman she would have, before tonight, sworn only barely tolerated her.

Things can't possibly get worse than this.


	2. be aware of evil men (grant)

A/N: First of all, thank you for all of the comments and kudos! I'll be responding to your comments presently; I just wanted to get this up before tonight's episode.

Second, this chapter is from Grant's POV. Please keep in mind two things: one, he's an unreliable narrator; and two, his thoughts and opinions do not necessarily reflect my own.

Third, please be aware that this chapter in particular has **spoilers** up to and including "The Writing on the Wall."

I think that's it! Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review.

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><p>Grant knew that Jemma was gone. No one <em>told<em> him—not verbally, at least—but he knew. Coulson is an expressive man, and he gives away more than he thinks he does: in the tone of his voice, the shift of his eyebrows, and the intensity of his glare alone.

So he doesn't know where she was or what she was doing—or even exactly _when_ she left—but he knew she was gone.

And now, he knows she's back.

It changes things. Before, when Coulson came down to the Vault with questions about HYDRA, Grant would either answer them or refuse to speak, based mostly on whim. He didn't ask for anything in return or make any demands, because frankly, Coulson couldn't give him anything he wanted—aside from his freedom, but he knew _that_ was off the table.

Now, though, there's something he does want.

Jemma.

Not in the sense of wanting her as _his_, although of course he does. _That_ is a long way off, after the way things went down after SHIELD fell, and in any case, Coulson can't give him Jemma. What Coulson _can_ give him is _time_ with Jemma.

He's wanted it since the beginning, but had to do without, because she wasn't around. Now she is.

So when, the morning after Jemma's visit, Coulson comes down to the Vault with questions about HYDRA, Grant makes it clear: he'll speak to Jemma or not at all.

Coulson refuses, which is pretty much what Grant expected. After the months he's spent going back and forth, Coulson has no reason to believe he's going to stick to this. It'll take a while before Coulson realizes he's serious.

That's all right. He's got nothing but time.

Once he gives Coulson his demand, he lies down on his bunk with his back to him. Coulson stays for a while, but eventually accepts that he's not getting anything from Grant today, and leaves. Once he's gone, Grant rolls to his back and stares at the ceiling.

Two days ago, he would have said that it would take _years_ to make up the ground he lost with Jemma when the truth came out. Now—well, it still won't be easy, and it still won't be quick, but his time table has been moved up significantly.

She has _amnesia_.

He has no idea how she got the head injury that caused it—or her other injuries; he suspects a broken rib at the very least, based on the way she was favoring her side last night—but he can't be anything other than grateful for it. Oh, he hates to see her injured, of course, and if he ever finds out who hurt her there will be _serious_ retribution, but…

She doesn't remember what happened. She's been told, but that's not the same as living it. More importantly, she only knows what Coulson can tell her, and there's a lot Coulson doesn't know.

The last memory she has of him is their goodbye at the Hub. He can use that.

Jemma is vulnerable right now. Her memories are from less than three days after SHIELD fell. A lot of things have changed since then, and it will have her off balance. This base, the people in it, the way the world at large views SHIELD (not kindly, if the swiftly deepening lines on Coulson's face are any indication)—all of it will be a mystery to her.

He can use that, too.

It will take time and patience and very careful planning, but he can win her over again. Turning her against the rest of the team might not be possible, but he can—at the very least—undo the damage that Coulson's little share-session caused.

It will take time, but he's got plenty of that. All he needs is to be able to speak with her.

He'll get that, too. Maybe not right away, but eventually, something will happen. _Something_ will make Coulson desperate enough to send Jemma down to get answers about HYDRA. And when he does, Grant will be ready and waiting for her.

He can win her over again. All he needs is the opportunity.

x

Coulson comes down several times over the next few days, and each time, Grant ignores him. He doesn't speak a single word or even make eye contact. Watching from his peripheral vision, Grant can tell that the silent treatment is starting to get to Coulson. He puts on a pretty good show, sighing and making light-hearted comments about Grant's childishness, but the furrow between his eyebrows grows deeper and deeper.

He's starting to consider it. Grant can tell.

Then things get complicated, as they tend to do.

x

Six days after Jemma came to see him, Grant is just finishing up his morning workout when alarms start to blare in the base above. In his cell, they're muted, but still audible, and he looks up. In the nearly eight months he's been down here, he's only heard that alarm a handful of times. Whatever's happened must be big.

Big enough to require his help? He hopes so.

Not because he's curious about what's going on—although, honestly, he kind of is—but because if it's big enough to set alarms off for, it's big enough to push Coulson into sending Jemma down. It's strange, how he's been itching to see her. In a way, it was easier when she was away. Knowing that she's in the base, only a few floors above him, and he has no way of getting to her—it's driving him crazy.

The Spartan nature of his cell doesn't really bother him. He's been in worse places. The lack of activity is starting to wear, a bit, but he's fully capable of keeping his mind occupied. Even being contained in such a small space isn't that bad.

He's lasted more than half a year here, and the past six days have, without a doubt, been the worst so far. Even when he was playing crazy and attempting suicide, trying to convince Coulson he was harmless, he was never this antsy.

He _really_ hopes they need his help with whatever's happened.

They do.

A few hours after the alarms cut out, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and Jemma steps in. He stands and approaches the barrier as she descends the stairs, drinking her in. She doesn't look as pale as she did last week. That's good, but it's just about the only thing that is. The bandage that was on her temple then is gone, revealing a very nasty, well-stitched cut surrounded by even nastier bruising. It looks painful, and is unquestionably going to scar.

Also, she's definitely thinner. He thought it might have just been his imagination, last week—just the effect of the scrubs and oversized robe she was wearing, hospital attire making her look even tinier than usual—but no. She's definitely lost weight.

Whatever she was doing while she was gone, it apparently didn't involve taking care of herself. He frowns.

Just like last week, she keeps her head down until she reaches the bottom of the stairs. It gives him plenty of time to center and compose himself; by the time she looks up, he's able to greet her with a calm, friendly smile.

"Jemma," he says. "You look better. How are you feeling?"

She ignores the question. "We need to talk about your brother."

It's not what he's expecting, and his brain kicks into high gear. What could have happened, involving one of his brothers, that's bad enough to make Coulson send Jemma? Bad enough to set off an alarm for?

Thomas is a trauma surgeon. Somehow, Grant can't picture him being involved in anything big enough to merit this kind of response. Christian, however, is a senator. Grant's been reading increasing stress on Coulson, lately—could there be some kind of legislation putting whatever remains of SHIELD at risk?

"Which one?" he asks, mostly to buy himself time to think.

If Christian is a threat to SHIELD, it opens some interesting possibilities. It could be the chance he's spent months waiting for, and a week ago, he would have jumped at it. But now…

"The older one," Jemma says. She has a white-knuckle grip on the tablet she's holding, which belies her casual tone. "The senator."

"Christian," he says. It's not a surprise, but it's good to have confirmation.

He steps away from the barrier and turns his back to her for a moment, mind racing. He needs to think fast, decide how to play this. If he's going to take advantage of this opportunity—if he's going to use this—he needs to start building on it now. He can't change his mind later. However he reacts now, he won't be able to take it back. Whichever decision he makes, he'll have to follow through.

He can use this to escape. Say the right words, play the right emotions, and it'll be child's play to plant the idea in Coulson's head that he should be handed over to Christian—to federal custody. And escaping from federal custody will be even easier than getting put into it.

He could get away. It's beyond tempting.

He's been locked in this cell for nearly eight months. It's not _too_ bad—he's been in far worse places for far longer—but it's still not exactly a good time.

A week ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. But now…

Jemma is vulnerable right now. This—talking to her—this is the way to take advantage of that. If he gets away, he won't be able to do this. He needs to be a constant presence, a constant _influence_, in order to make use of the opportunity her amnesia gives him. He can't win her over if he's not here.

Of course…he can't _initiate_ contact from a cell. Down here, he's dependent on _her_ whims—or, more accurately, Coulson's. Any manipulation, any attempt to influence her, will be entirely dependent on Coulson sending her down here. He'll only be able to work her when things like this happen—when Coulson is desperate enough to turn to him for answers.

If he's free, though…if he's on the outside…

He could contact her as often as he wants. And she would answer—be _ordered_ to, most likely—in the hopes of using the calls to track him down and recapture him. His timetable could move up yet again if he weren't dependent on Coulson's permission to speak to Jemma.

Escape it is, then. Which means he needs to play up his fear and plant the idea of Christian finding out where he is.

"Why?" he asks, letting his voice shake the slightest bit. He rubs at his beard, projecting unease. "What happened?"

For a moment, Jemma's face is soft with sympathy and concern, and she opens her mouth—preparing to offer comfort. He can _see_ the moment she remembers, the moment she shuts her instinctive reaction down and reminds herself that he's a traitor.

She's had six days to hear all kinds of stories about the terrible things he's done. Apparently, they still haven't sunk in yet.

That's a good sign.

She closes her mouth and looks down at her tablet for a second. When she looks back up, her eyes are cool.

"We just need basic information," she says calmly. "Habits, the places he frequents, that sort of thing."

He takes a deep breath.

"You need to stay _away_ from him," he says. He approaches the barrier again. "He's _not_ what he seems. He _always_ has an _angle_." He lets the tremor in his voice increase, lets the unease he's projecting solidify into something closer to fear. "And if he thinks you can lead him to _me_—"

"This isn't about you," Jemma interrupts.

"Isn't it?" he demands. He takes another step closer and lowers his voice. "I've told you about him—what he did to me." He modifies his tone, slipping panic in alongside the fear. "He gets joy from _one thing_—hurting people."

His voice breaks on the last two words, and Jemma meets his eyes steadily. Her face is blank, but her eyes clearly show her uncertainty. She's not sure whether his reaction is real or not. It's only been a week; she doesn't carry the same instinctive distrust of him the rest of the team does.

Coulson was the same, those first few weeks. He'd forget that Grant was a traitor and take him at his word. It didn't last long, but while it did—well, Grant can admit that he probably had a little _too_ much fun with it. He did himself no favors there.

He is doing himself a favor here, though. Jemma's reaction (although gratifying, in that it's further confirmation that she hasn't been turned entirely against him, yet) isn't the point of this. Coulson's is. Grant's playing this for him—in order to plant the idea of handing him over to Christian.

He needs to push it farther.

"So, tell me, _please_," he says, inhaling shakily. "Does he know I'm here?"

"That isn't how this works," Jemma says, in a tone that falls somewhat short of stern. She's shaken by the show he's putting on. "I'm not here to answer your questions. You're going to answer _mine_."

"And I will," he promises earnestly. "I told you already, I'm never gonna lie to you. I'll always tell you the truth. But if Christian knows I'm here—"

"If you're going to tell me the truth, then do so," she interrupts. "So far all you've done is _deflect._ I need _answers_, not distractions!"

Her tone is suddenly a lot sharper and, while she's nowhere near shouting, a lot louder, as well. He raises his eyebrows and dials back the act, because this looks like an excellent opening for the _other_ angle he needs to work.

"That wasn't about me, was it?" he asks gently.

"Of course it's about you," she says unconvincingly. "I need information about your brother, and you're not sharing it."

"Everything going okay up there?" he presses, ignoring the second half of her statement. "Eight months…a lot can change. You must have a lot of questions."

"As I've said, yes," she agrees. "I need to know about your—"

"About Fitz?" he suggests.

Jemma's hands spasm around the tablet, and she takes half a step back. _That_ hit a nerve.

He thought it might.

"What would you know about Fitz?" she asks, quiet and angry. "Other than what _you_ did to him?"

"He came down for a visit while you were away," he answers. "It was enlightening."

In more ways than one.

Jemma's eyes go wide. "How—"

She's cut off as the barrier solidifies, going completely opaque and leaving Grant closed in once again. Safe from observation, he allows himself a brief smile. Jemma's hands were nowhere near the controls. It wasn't her that did that.

It was Coulson—who Grant absolutely saw lurking at the top of the stairs, even though he didn't acknowledge it. And Coulson would only cut off the interview like that if he thought he had what he needed from Grant.

He took the bait. The idea has been planted. If all goes well, Grant will be out of here soon.

He has a whole list of things to do once he's free. There's Jemma to deal with, of course. There are things he set in motion before the debacle at Cybertek. Actually, there are things he set in motion before he was even placed on the team. He needs to see to those.

And, as he's just been so strongly reminded, he has some unfinished business with Christian.

That's going near the top of the list. After all, his brother is going to be his means of escape. It's only right to thank him in person.

x

It takes another session with Coulson, and a very convincing (if he does say so himself) show of desperation, but less than two days later, Grant is brought out of his cell for the first time since being shoved into it. (He's also given shoes, which feel a little strange after so many months of being barefoot.)

The _method_ by which he's leaving is…interesting. There's a whole squad of foot soldiers in riot gear, all heavily armed and obviously on high alert, which suggests caution. On the other hand, all they do is shackle his ankles and his wrists—his hands aren't even cuffed _behind_ him. It's honestly a little insulting.

He was expecting to be sedated for the transfer, but apparently Coulson's very, very confident in the ability of the transport team to keep him under control. He's a trusting kind of guy.

You'd think he'd have learned by now.

Grant adjusts his escape plan accordingly as he's led up the stairs. It's a shame, really; they've taken all the fun out of it. After months' worth of inactivity, he was looking forward to a challenge.

Well, whatever. He's got plenty of fun ahead of him.

They lead him through the base, which is another interesting decision. He thinks it's supposed to be some kind of walk of shame, judging by the way there are people standing in all of the doorways they pass, watching him walk by in chains, but really it's just stupid. He memorizes each new face he sees, filing them away just in case, and takes careful note of the route.

If he ever comes back here, he's going to know his way around at least a part of the base. Coulson's not just trusting, he's cocky. Arrogant. He obviously hasn't even considered the possibility that Grant might escape.

Sloppy.

Eventually, the reason for the whole production becomes apparent, as he's led past what's obviously the lab. Trip, Fitz, and Skye are all present, and they all watch him go with hate in their eyes. He thinks of saying something, making some crack to set them off (and they're all clearly on the edge, though Trip and Skye more so than Fitz), but decides against it. He doesn't really care enough to rile them up.

There's no sign of Jemma or May.

As they reach the end of the hallway, one of his escort shoves a hood over his head. It's too little, way too late, but…at least they thought of it eventually?

Presumably it's to keep him from seeing the way from this base to the point where he's being handed into federal custody—because he'll undoubtedly be questioned, upon arrival at whatever federal facility he's being taken to, and Coulson doesn't want him to be able to give away SHIELD's location.

It's a _reasonable_ precaution, but…it's kind of insulting, too. As if Grant needs his _eyes_ to keep track of where they're going.

Seriously, he knows he lied to them about pretty much everything, but they do realize that he's _genuinely_ a specialist, right? His personality, his history, his emotions—those were faked. His training, not so much.

As such, he easily keeps track of how far they go and the turns they take. He'll be able to work his way back to the base if he needs to. He doesn't intend to—not anytime soon, at least—but it's good to know that he can.

The drive isn't very long—less than an hour—and soon enough, he's being pulled out of the van he was transported in and led across what he suspects is some kind of parking structure, judging by the way their steps echo.

"Do not give him _one inch_," he hears Coulson say.

It's kind of hilarious. Coulson's already given him a mile.

The hood is pulled off of his head, and he blinks against the light for a few seconds. As he does so, his SHIELD escort steps back and a few men in FBI camo riot gear approach. One of them grabs his arm, and he allows himself to be led to another prisoner transport van. He could kill everyone here before any one of them got a single shot off, but it would be counter-productive. He needs to wait until they're away from here and he's solidly in federal custody.

Escaping from SHIELD custody wouldn't suit his purposes.

Escaping from federal custody, however, does. Very nicely.

It takes him less than five minutes.

x

He's feeling more than a little exposed, at the moment. Part of that is because he's wearing scrubs, which is the kind of thing that makes a man stick out. Another part is because he's got no idea where the hell he is. The biggest part, he thinks, is because he's been in that tiny cell in that fairly small basement for months now. Being out in the open is, at this point, unfamiliar and unsettling. Too bright, too colorful, too _loud_. It's kind of overwhelming.

But he doesn't have time to be overwhelmed, so he sucks it up and steals a car.

It has GPS, so he knows where he is. And a quick look at the map shows him where SHIELD's base is, too. He makes careful note of the location, burns it into his memory, and then sets all that aside. He needs to worry about his next step.

SHIELD is going to be after him, of course. It won't be long before they find out that he's escaped, and they'll be on his trail as soon as they do. Which is, after all, the whole point. He has a destination, both for himself and for SHIELD. It's just a matter of choosing how to get them there.

He has twenty hot boxes in the immediate area. SHIELD knows about eleven of them.

It's tempting to just go to the nearest one—he really wants out of these scrubs—but that would be a mistake. He can't make it too obvious that he's playing them. The…_precautions_ he has available will make it clear that he planned ahead, but they need to think he's making mistakes, or his plan won't work.

He decides on Philadelphia, just because. He checks the nav screen, orients himself, and pulls away from the parking lot he's been idling in. As he drives, he picks up the cell phone that's sitting in one of the cup holders, which was the whole reason he chose to steal this car over the others that were on the street. And not just because it means it will take the owner that much longer to be able to report it missing, although that's a nice bonus.

No, he has some calls to make.

SHIELD will be on his tail any minute now. It's time to invite HYDRA to the table.

x

He leads SHIELD on a nice little chase. Civilians make excellent shields (ha) when the enemy is led by a man like Coulson, and Grant has a million opportunities to get away clean. It's a little sad, really. They're trying so hard and they have no idea how badly they're failing.

He lets them know he's made the blonde, because he can tell she's good (actually, she looks kind of familiar; he thinks they may have shared a class or two at the Academy) and he doesn't want to risk giving her an opening. The guy in the cowboy hat he lets tag along, partly because really? A cowboy hat? But mostly because he needs SHIELD to know where he's going if this plan is going to work.

Dealing with HYDRA was much more straightforward, of course. There's a bar—conveniently located in Boston, which fits nicely with some of his other plans—that he used to use for meeting with other HYDRA agents on Garrett's order, and he's arranged to use it again.

The calls he made were _very_ informative. He knows a lot about the state of things in HYDRA at the moment, and he's about to use that information to his advantage. This guy Bakshi wants face time with Coulson? Grant is just the guy to make it happen.

He double-checks that his SHIELD tail is still present (he is, and he's lost the cowboy hat) before entering the Goldbrix Tavern. Again, he has to feel a little sorry for SHIELD (and HYDRA, actually). They really never had a chance.

Everything is going according to plan.

x

It continues to do so right up to the point that he crosses off the bartender and Bakshi's escort and trades clothes with Bakshi. It's as he's tying Bakshi up that he gets thrown a curveball.

"Treachery," Bakshi mutters. "I might have known. Did you learn it from Miss Simmons, or she from you?"

…That had better not mean what he thinks it means.

"Actually, I learned it from HYDRA," he corrects casually as he finishes taping Bakshi's legs to the chair. Then he stands and smiles down at him. "Treachery's kind of my job. You really _should_ have known."

He pulls another chair over and turns it around, straddling it and propping his crossed arms on the backrest. Now, how to get him to explain that comment about Jemma without giving away how important she is?

Bakshi eyes him. "I suppose this is the part where the torture begins?"

He's calm and completely unimpressed. Grant has to admit he likes this guy's style.

"Torture?" he asks, with blatantly false surprise. "No, no. Just got a couple questions for you, that's all."

"Such as?"

"Well, as you know, I've been out of the loop recently," he says. "You know how it is. Locked in a cage, no outside contact…I didn't even get cable." He shakes his head, regretfully. "So I missed a lot. All I need is some help catching up."

It's a lie, since he got caught up pretty well before arranging this meeting, but it's a convincing one.

"And if I don't provide it?" Bakshi asks.

"Well," he shrugs. "_That's_ when the torture starts."

Bakshi sighs. "What would you like to know?"

Grant really likes this guy. He's practical.

"I've got a long list," he says. "But let's start with you explaining that crack about Simmons."

"You didn't know?" Bakshi asks, face expressing mild surprise.

"Out of the loop," Grant reminds him. "I haven't seen her since I tried to kill her eight months ago." He smirks a little. "I guess it didn't take."

"No," Bakshi agrees, grimacing slightly. "And had we known about _that_…"

"Yes?" he prompts.

"Shortly after the fall of SHIELD, Miss Simmons applied for a position in our science department," Bakshi says.

It's only years of training and a decade of practice that allows Grant to keep his face blank, and even then, it's a close thing. Jemma went undercover? _Jemma_? What the _fuck_ was Coulson thinking? Jemma _can't lie_, and she's the _last_ person who would switch sides.

_That_ was an op that was doomed from the start, and that Coulson pulled it when his specialist was in a cell in the basement, leaving no one to pull Jemma out when things inevitably went wrong…

Grant's got a sneaking suspicion he knows where the injuries that caused Jemma's amnesia came from, and suddenly he's feeling a lot less charitable towards this guy.

"We knew, of course, of her relationship with you," Bakshi continues, unaware of Grant's emotional reaction. "As your exemption to the fraternization regulations is still part of her file. She claimed you had helped her…see HYDRA's truth, before your disappearance."

"And you believed her?" Grant asks, incredulous. Seriously?

Apparently SHIELD aren't the only ones scraping the bottom of the barrel these days. If the HYDRA recruiter Jemma spoke to honestly _bought_ that…

"She has an impressive resume," Bakshi says. "We took a chance. Admittedly, to our later regret."

"I'll bet."

He listens in silence as the rest of the story unfolds, struggling with his temper in a way that he hasn't since the day he touched the berserker staff. This time it's even harder to control. Then, he recognized the alien influence and was able to compartmentalize it to a degree. This time, it's pure emotion, and much harder to put aside.

It sounds like Jemma nearly died at least three times while undercover with HYDRA. And, of course, the third was the most dangerous. It turns out Grant owes the blonde he ditched at the bus stop (Bobbi Morse—he knew he recognized her) a favor or two, because apparently she crossed off four guards and bodily carried an unconscious Jemma out of the HYDRA base they were undercover in after Jemma's cover got blown.

At least _someone_ was watching her back—albeit not very well, if the guards had the chance to inflict _amnesia_ before Morse got to them.

Morse isn't the only one he owes something to. Coulson sent Jemma undercover—into HYDRA, of all places—and by Bakshi's account it wasn't long after SHIELD's fall. Which means there can't have even been time to give her a decent grounding in undercover work.

She was sent, alone and unprepared, into the single most dangerous organization currently operating, with nothing but a half-assed cover story and a woman she didn't know to watch her back.

Oh, yeah. Grant owes Coulson _something_, all right. And a bullet won't cut it—that's far too quick.

Once Bakshi's finished recounting Jemma's time in HYDRA—and once he's sure he can keep his anger out of his voice—Grant asks a few more questions. Just some basics, double checking the information he's already received, that kind of thing.

He barely listens to the answers. He's doing some quick restrategizing. This new intel on Jemma's actions while he was in that cell changes things. His earlier plan is no longer acceptable.

He thought he could trust Coulson and the team with Jemma's safety. Obviously, he was wrong.

Eventually, he's gotten all he needs (or wants) from Bakshi. He's also got a new plan—which is very similar to the old one, actually, just with some minor adjustments. Bakshi isn't one of them, though, so Grant thanks him for the information and then knocks him out.

To show his appreciation, he does it with one blow and as little pain as possible.

Before he tears off a piece of duct tape and sticks it over Bakshi's mouth, he scrawls FOR COULSON on it with a marker. That should give SHIELD a moment of pause. So should the hood he pulls over Bakshi's head. Wearing Grant's clothes, slumped over, and with his face obscured, he could—at first glance—be Grant himself.

The deception won't last more than a few seconds, but a few extra seconds is all he needs.

x

The first thing he does, upon renting a room, is take a very, very long shower. His cell had shower facilities, after a fashion, but they were nowhere near as nice as the one in his hotel room. Not that it's particularly nice, either, technically, but after eight months? It's paradise.

Once he's showered and shaved (and if the shower wasn't paradise, finally getting rid of the beard _is_), he checks the time. He thinks it's been long enough, now, that Coulson will have handed Bakshi's cell phone over to Skye to see what she can dig up.

He grabs the old Nokia (no GPS, no 3G—harder to trace) out of his go bag and dials Bakshi's number. Then he puts it on speakerphone as it rings. He's running a little behind schedule—he wasn't expecting to actually _interrogate_ Bakshi, just tie him up and leave him—and a bit of multitasking can help him make up the time lost.

He's just pulling on Bakshi's shirt (which fits surprisingly well) when Skye answers.

"Hail HYDRA," she says.

He has to smile. It doesn't surprise him in the least that she would decide _that_ is the best way to answer a captive HYDRA agent's phone.

"Hey, Skye," he says.

He can hear her inhale sharply, and her voice, when she speaks, is a little uneven.

"Where are you?"

"Just wanted to make sure you got my present," he says, ignoring the question. "I did promise him a face-to-face with Coulson." He finishes buttoning his shirt and reaches for Bakshi's tie. "Probably not exactly what he had in mind."

Skye is silent as he finishes tying the tie.

"I'll be sending a few other gifts your way now and then," he adds.

"What, like a cat bringing in dead birds?" she asks. "No, thanks."

"Well, at the very least, there'll be a few for the blonde," he says. He straightens the tie, then picks the suit coat up off the bed. "I hear I have her to thank for Jemma's life."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Skye says flatly.

"I'm talking about Coulson sending my girlfriend undercover as a HYDRA scientist," he explains helpfully. "And the new recruit—the blonde one, not the one in the hat—saving her life when things unsurprisingly went wrong. Although she didn't do a great job of it, did she?"

"Simmons is _not_ your girlfriend," Skye snaps. (Like _that's_ the most important part of what he said. Honestly.)

"Not for the moment," he agrees. It's unfortunate, but not surprising. The whole HYDRA reveal went about as badly as it possibly could have. "But give it some time. I'll win her over again."

"No, you won't," Skye says. The unease is gone from her voice, replaced with a sharp anger. She's feeling protective.

Good.

"You're not gonna see or _speak_ to her again," she continues. "Not ever."

"Won't I?" he asks.

Skye pauses. "Unless you tell me where you are. Then we can talk about it."

"You know, it's becoming increasingly obvious to me that SHIELD can't be trusted to take care of Jemma." He manages to keep his tone light and conversational, despite the anger that's still burning in him, but it's a struggle. "At all."

"What?" Skye asks. "Yes, we can." She pauses. "And what do you care?"

"I care a lot about Jemma," he says. He checks his appearance in the mirror and readjusts the suit jacket he's wearing. "Certainly more than Coulson does."

"You're insane," she says. "You tried to _kill her_."

"And Coulson sent her undercover into HYDRA," he counters. He's getting pretty sick of that whole incident being brought up. "Also there's the amnesia to consider. Say what you want about me, but at least I always had Jemma's back. Coulson obviously doesn't."

Skye starts to respond, but after a glance at his watch, he cuts her off. He's out of time.

"Sorry, Skye," he says. "Gotta go. I have a few personal matters to attend to." He picks up the phone. "Tell Jemma I'll see her soon."

He hangs up before she can answer and tosses the phone back into the bag. For the moment, Jemma and SHIELD will have to wait.

It's time for a family reunion.


End file.
